For You
by MindsetOfMel
Summary: Gamzee could ask Tavros anything, anything at all. And for Gamzee, he would. [Rated T for implied sexual content.] (Cover image belongs tp the incomparable ikimaru on tumblr.)


Your name is Tavros Nitram, and your breathing takes so much longer to level out than his does. It doesn't make any sense, because you're actually somewhat fit, and he's all soft around the middle. But as he lies next to you with his head on your chest and arm over your waist, his pale cream skin bare against your tan caramel, you don't care about the logic of it all.

You listen to the rhythm of his smooth breathing contrasting against your still-ragged inhales and exhales. He's already asleep, and you know it. The fact makes you smile.

His ipod is on the dock across the room, and you can hear a song playing softly, permeating the soft silence of the room with its melody. You recognize the tune of "For You" by Passenger. The sound makes you happy, and you remember the first time you ever heard the song.

You're thrust suddenly into a memory, and it's last summer again. You're at Gamzee's apartment, in his bedroom. He's lying on the floor, sprawled on top of a pile of pillows. You sit on the bed, buried under his blankets.

His scent invades your nostrils, coupled with the skunk-like odor of marijuana from the haze of smoke in his room. It used to make you cough and gag, but you're used to it by now. He finishes off the joint he holds delicately between his thumb and index finger, snubbing it out right on the carpet. He looks at you, and the expression on his face makes you smile.

"Time for some motherfuckin' jams, Tavbro." he grins, and struggles to his feet, locating his ipod and hooking it up to his speaker system.

He proceeds to play loud and obnoxious rap music, most of which you used to find trashy, but which you've now acquired a taste for. You can thank your lovely boyfriend for that one.

Speaking of Gamzee, he's crawling into the bed to sit on your lap. He gives you a look, raising his eyebrows, and you know he wants you to kiss him. Luckily, you're happy to comply.

After a few moments of his relatively chapped lips against your smooth ones, the song changes from intense rap to something slower and sweeter. Gamzee pulls back and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, smiling against your skin. You hold him, listening as he sings along in his gravelly, off-key baritone voice:

" _For you, dear_

 _I'd lose my tongue to talk, dear_

 _No whispers in the dark, dear_

 _For you I would,"_

He sings, and you can't help but blush and smile as you try to suppress a nervous giggle.

He sits up, and you kiss him again, sinking into the bed as your movements progress from something innocent to something else entirely.

 _ **And if you, dear**_

 _ **Found my words were unclear**_

 _ **And my voice you can't hear**_

 _ **For you I would**_

You both lose yourselves in each other that day, the movements of your bodies and the beauty of making love with him for the first time living forever in your mind. That's when you realize, truly, that you love him.

 _ **Write you a poem**_

 _ **Just to let you know**_

 _ **I would write you a poem, my love**_

And he writes you plenty of poetry, but never in words. No, not Gamzee. You lose your train of thought and find another, struggling to catch your breath in the warm dark of your boyfriend's bedroom.

The poetry of Gamzee Makara is found in everything he does. The cadence of his voice when says your name. The vapor of his e-cigarette making an escape from his gray-painted lips. The curve of his shoulders, the soft slopes of his waist and stomach. The tremor of his hands when he's arguing with himself. The tears falling from his deep blue eyes, cutting tracks through the paint on his cheeks to drip off of his chin in splashes of gray and white.

The song is still playing, and you fall into another memory.

This time, you're in Gamzee's bedroom yet again, but the atmosphere is all wrong. The usually hazy air is clear of smoke, but thick with tension. The only scent in the room is the coppery scent of blood and the pungent odor of sweat. A mirror lies shattered on the floor, dotted and smeared with crimson.

You sit once more on Gamzee's bed, holding him in your arms much like the last memory. But this time, instead of honeyed words murmured in smiles against your neck, it's heartbreaking sobs wrenching themselves from Gamzee's throat into your chest.

No words are exchanged. None are needed. You've already listened to his incessant apologies as you cleaned the shards of glass from his knuckles. You bandaged him up, and that's when the tears began.

He knows he yelled at you. He knows he hit you-and if he doesn't, the bruises will tell him later. But you know it wasn't really him. Not truly.

It was the other Gamzee. The one that torments your Gamzee, lives inside of his head and tries to tear him apart. Your Gamzee would never hurt a fly, and you know that. You aren't angry.

However, you're Tavros Nitram, and words have never been your strong suit. You have beautiful thoughts and sentiments, but they somehow become garbled and warped on their path from your mind to your mouth.

But songs...songs are different. An idea comes to you. You try to not think so hard, just this once, and simply act.

" _For you, dear_

 _I'd lose my legs to walk, dear_

 _No footprints in the chalk, dear_

 _For you I would,"_

Gamzee begins to calm down, squeezing your waist. You take it as a good sign and continue the song in your high, clear tenor.

You hold him tighter. This is the love of your life, and you refuse to see him hurt this badly ever again.

 _ **And it's true, dear**_

 _ **If your demons are near**_

 _ **And you're drowning in tears**_

 _ **For you I would**_

Back in the present, you notice that your breathing has slowed and evened to match your lover's. You absently card a hand through his hair, smiling softly in the dark. Your body begins to register the true fatigue of your night with Gamzee.

 _ **Build you a boat**_

 _ **To keep you afloat**_

 _ **I would build you a boat, my love**_

You close your eyes and relax into the bed. It's moments like these when you know, without a trace of doubt, that Gamzee could ask you to do anything. Anything at all.

And for him, you would.


End file.
